


Don't kiss me baby (if you don't mean it)

by seventeensteps



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: The first time it happened, they were standing together on Doyoung's narrow apartment balcony, already too close to be completely appropriate. Doyoung couldn't remember what it was they were talking about, but it led to Doyoung's laughing and Ten's leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, stopping him dead in his tracks.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	Don't kiss me baby (if you don't mean it)

**Author's Note:**

> For [Poeticalization](https://twitter.com/Poeticalization). Thank you for reminding me to write. Happy New Year!

_What are you doing on New Year's Eve?_

That was what Doyoung had wanted to say when Ten was about to leave. Instead, he let a man he called friend lean in and kiss him, slow and too gentle for Doyoung's weak heart. The shorter man smiled up at him, his eyes the liquid darkness of the night, unreadable, something akin to the warmth he felt when they were still tangled up in the sheets together not an hour ago.

And then Ten left. Doyoung stood watching the empty space in front of him, trying not to think about the feeling of impossible loss in his chest.

Sighing, Doyoung closed the door, and focused on the pile of work he had to finish before New Year's, which would arrive in two days. No, scratch that, he glanced at the digital clock on his lockscreen. Only a day and a scant few hours left.

Time to get to work.

*

The first time it happened, they were standing together on Doyoung's narrow apartment balcony, already too close to be completely appropriate. Doyoung couldn't remember what it was they were talking about, but it led to Doyoung's laughing and Ten's leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, stopping him dead in his tracks. Doyoung had felt like his whole world was turning upside down, everything he thought he knew was wrong. He didn't know what he should, or could do, but then Ten was there, holding his gaze, and it was the faint vulnerability hiding in those eyes that had made Doyoung tip his head in to close the gap between them once more.

They didn't go far, that day. Never anywhere near bed. They made out like teenagers there under the night sky, the wind too chilly for their own good, but not cold enough to make them stop. It was already too much for Doyoung, much softer and intoxicating than anything he'd prepared for. The fact that they ‒ or on Doyoung's side, at least ‒ didn't feel the need to take it to bed already messed with his head, as if this kind of intimacy and comfort, _this_ , was enough for him. Doyoung was in much more trouble than he'd thought.

When Ten had to leave, Doyoung just walked him to his front door, like always, and said goodbye.

The second, and the third, and the fourth time it happened, they still hadn't talked about it, and everything else stayed the same ‒ like _Before_ , like they were still friends. Maybe they were still friends, Doyoung wasn't really sure about that, and he didn't want to lose Ten, but it'd made kissing him hurt a little, though Doyoung was willing to get hurt when Ten kept touching his side and licking into Doyoung's mouth just like _that_.

It was the fifth time that they stumbled into bed. Doyoung felt from the start how different than usual it was, the kisses more heated, the touches more urgent, but he didn't exactly know why. Doyoung went with it, submitted himself to Ten's mercy, and did everything he could to keep the other man from getting up and walking away. Ten ended up riding him until all thoughts left Doyoung's head and all he had on the tip of his tongue was the sound of Ten's name. After, they lay there, whispering about their days and tracing patterns into each other's skin until it was time for Ten to leave and go to work and do the things he did when he wasn't here. Doyoung said goodbye with a light peck on his nose.

It was after the door clicked shut that Doyoung let himself broke down and cried.

Logically, he understood that it was absolutely irrational to be like this, but Doyoung wasn't certain what he _was_ to his friend right now. A friend, still? A partner, in what sense? He wouldn't let himself think too much about what they were to one another, but it wrecked him nonetheless. He knew the reasonable thing to do was to just ask, communicate like the grown adults they were, but he was afraid that actually saying it out loud would break whatever delicate bubble they found themselves in. He was scared that what he wanted was not what Ten wanted, and terrified that the truth about his own feelings would be the thing that drove the other man away.

And Doyoung couldn't bear the thought of that just yet.

The other times that followed, Doyoung had tried his best to keep his mouth shut.

*

Doyoung had been awake for the last 20 hours and typing for 8 of those when there was a knock at his door. His wrists were sore and his eyes were tired, and he thought at first that it was his exhausted brain doing their weird little thing, but then the knocking continued. Realizing it was real, he assumed it was for one of his neighbors, but then after maybe the tenth knock and a terrifyingly familiar voice ‒ Doyoung would recognize that voice in _any circumstances_ (and what did that say about him?) ‒ called out his name, Doyoung's heartbeat picked up, and he almost tripped over the stupid chair in the haste of getting to the front door as quickly as possible. He stopped just before he could reach out and twist the knob open, standing there dumbly and slightly panicking.

"Doyoung?" Ten's voice was muffled, but Doyoung could hear a bit of concern tinged in it. "Are you okay in there?"

"Why are you here?" was the first thing Doyoung said to him, because Doyoung was a big dumbass. "I mean, it's," he trailed off, looking at the time on his phone, "almost 2 pm." He finished lamely, wincing as his brain automatically calculated how long he had left until the deadline.

"So?" Ten prompted. "You're ignoring my texts _and_ my calls. I'm here to make sure you aren't already dead. Open the door and let me in."

It was not really Doyoung's fault for putting his phone on silent when he wanted to focus on his job. Once becoming somewhat successful at calming himself, he opened the door. "Hey," he said to the smaller man.

"Hey, dumbass, You eaten anything yet?" Ten quipped, then added, "Popcorn doesn't count."

Doyoung frowned. "It totally does."

Rolling his eyes, Ten shook his head at him and set the bag he'd been carrying on the counter. "I bought us some food. Figured you would still be stuck with the article and didn't have enough sense to feed yourself properly."

Doyoung ignored him in favor of looking through several boxes of Ten's favorite Thai place. There was shrimp fried rice, and Doyoung began to open the lid. He realized he was actually very hungry when the heavenly aroma of the well-cooked rice and shrimp hit, and decided that the wretched article could wait for another fifteen minutes. "Thanks for the food," he said.

Ten shrugged, opening one box of his own ‒ some kind of spicy-looking minced pork with basil leaves on rice. They chatted a bit while they ate, just something to fill the silence.

After they finished and the rest of the food had been cleared away, Doyoung wasn't sure what he should do. There was the article, which was due in less than ten hours and Doyoung still had one fifth of the body and the conclusion _and_ the bibliography left to write. But Ten didn't look like he was going anywhere soon; maybe he wanted them to do something? Doyoung was _torn_.

"Just finish your article, Doyoung," Ten told him and flopped onto his couch with careless grace, fluid and powerful and very distracting. He was scrolling through something on his phone. "I have something I need to finish watching. Don't mind me."

That solved one of Doyoung's dilemmas, so he went for his original curiosity before his brain caught up with his treacherous mouth and lost the nerve to say anything else. "Why aren't you with your family?"

Ten glanced up at him from his phone, not saying anything for several seconds, and said, "I just visited them last month. You know that, right?"

"Yeah..." Doyoung felt a spark of hope in his chest, then tried to stamp it out. "So, you're staying?"

"Of course, I'm staying. What are you-" Ten sighed, rubbing his face with an empty hand. "I'm actually planning on talking to you about this _after_ you finish your work."

"What's 'this'?" His heart thudded loudly, from anticipation or trepidation, he wasn't sure which. Doyoung had to calm down. "I'm not following."

Ten regarded him, weighing something in his mind. A beat had passed when he carefully said, "Doyoung, I'm not sure if this is the right time."

And that was it. Doyoung didn't know how, but Ten had to know how he felt then, because those sharp eyes were too soft otherwise. Maybe Doyoung had been too careless and Ten had seen the way Doyoung looked at him, noticed the emotions on his face when Ten made him lose control.

That hesitation in Ten's voice was like a punch to the gut. For a moment, Doyoung wanted to run away because he was sure what he'd hear next would be nothing short of rejection, but that would be unfair to Ten so he stayed where he was, laid bare and verging on breaking. Swallowing through the lump in his throat, Doyoung only said, "Oh."

"Look at me, Kim Doyoung. Really look."

Doyoung did as told, and the naked affection on Ten's face was not what he was expecting. He felt a little winded, feeling that spark in his chest light up giddily.

"There's no way you don't know how crazy I am about you," Ten said, red dusted his cheeks, beautiful as ever. "Unless you're an idiot."

His heart roaring, Doyoung's eyes got a little hot, a burst of happiness threatened to suffocate him. He said, "I am an idiot."

Ten opened his mouth again to say something, but this time Doyoung didn't let him. The kiss felt like everything he'd always wanted but didn't realized he already had. It was overwhelming and it felt the same. It was how they kissed each other, but this time Doyoung didn't have to suppress anything anymore.

"I guess I've been a total idiot," Doyoung said after pulling back, a little out of breath.

"You've been a repressed idiot," Ten chuckled softly and kissed a corner of his mouth to take the sting away.

"Hey," Doyoung protested half-heartedly, and said, "Sorry."

"It's okay." Ten rested his head in the crook of his neck, his hair soft and tickling Doyoung's nose. "Despite being really smart, you're super dumb sometimes."

"But you like me?" Doyoung didn't mean for it to sound so much like a question. Ten snuggled even closer, his arms around him.

"I like you, Kim Doyoung."

He hugged Ten back as tightly as he could. "I like you, too," Doyoung tried.

Ten shifted in his arms and then his eyes were on him, intent.

"I like you," Doyoung repeated it again.

The blush on Ten's face grew even darker, then he squirmed a bit in Doyoung's hold, although he made no effort to move away. Ten counted that as a success.

"I like you so much it made me stupid." Doyoung was feeling pretty bold. It was refreshing.

Ten flicked his forehead once, then hid his face in Doyoung's chest. "You still have to write that article though," muffled Ten.

_Oh._ Doyoung mentally cursed, briefly entertaining the thought of handing in his work late and then getting murdered by his editor after. Nah, wasn't worth it.

"This is why I told you to finish the damn article first," Ten said, and made no move of letting him go.

Settling himself into his comfortable couch with Ten's warm weight on top of him, Doyoung kissed the top of Ten's head. He'd actually been typing for too long anyway.

Maybe the idea of taking a small break was not that foolish after all.


End file.
